


Fear and Trust

by icandrawamoth



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Restraints, Reunions, Trust, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, badthingshappenbingo, post-Lusankya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: New Republic Intelligence may as well be continuing Tycho's Lusankya torture as they attempt to strap him down and sedate him for a series of tests.





	Fear and Trust

**Author's Note:**

> For badthingshappenbingo prompt "kind restraints" and Whumptober day four alternate prompt "16. bound."

Wedge Antilles is not a man given to hate. Even the worst enemies he fights he can usually find a way to understand and respect while knowing they are wrong and must be stopped.

Wedge _hates_ what New Republic Intelligence is doing now. Tycho has been back with them for mere hours – Wedge is still processing the glorious fact that his partner is _alive_ – and they may as well be continuing the torment he's spent the last six months suffering under Ysanne Isard and her goons. Wedge wants nothing more than to hold Tycho, to take him in his arms and kiss him gently and assure them both that he's safe.

But Wedge is trapped behind one-way transparisteel watching as NRI security personnel with shock sticks drawn try to corral a clearly-panicking Tycho into a waiting gurney so can strap him down and sedate him and cart him off for a series of full brain and body scans intended to prove or disprove that he's the immediate threat they think he is, some kind of human bomb or preprogrammed assassin.

Wedge already knows he isn't. Sure, some of this is bias, but the rest is the very reason he has the privilege of being here at all. Quiz questions, blood tests, and even behavior specials with reams of records but who have never actually met the subject can only go so far to prove someone is or isn't who they so say are, so NRI had brought in Wedge, the person who knows Tycho best in the galaxy, to observe him.

Wedge had known immediately he was looking at the same man. Skinny and scarred, anxious and more raw than Wedge has seen him since they first met on the heels of Alderaan's destruction, but unmistakably _his_ Tycho.

And ever since, Wedge has been trapped in this room watching, not knowing when they'll be allowed an actual reunion. He doesn't think anyone has even told Tycho he's here.

On the other side of the sound-proof window, a security officer gestures sharply toward the gurney, and Tycho cowers further back into the corner he's tucked himself into.

“Stop this,” Wedge snaps, heart twisting to see the man he loves in such clear distress. “Let me speak to him.”

“Commander-” the guard keeping an eye on him begins.

“I can calm him down,” Wedge interrupts. “Get him to do what you want.” It's not exactly what he wants, but he's realized they're not going to give up on or delay this, and the very least he can do is help Tycho through it.

Wedge fixes an uncompromising glare on the guard and watches with satisfaction as he raises his comlink and speaks into it. One of the officers in the other room answers, and after a brief conference, it's decided. Wedge's guard beckons him over, unlocks a door, and gestures him through.

Wedge shoulders through the small group of security officers on the other side and makes his way over to his partner. Tycho's eyes widen when he sees him, and he lets out a shaky gasp, Wedge's name nearly lost in the whoosh of air.

Wedge just gathers him into his arms, words failing him for long moments. Tycho is here. He's frail and trembling, but he's alive and safe in Wedge's embrace, and they'll face what comes next together.

Someone behind him clears their throat, and Wedge ignores it for a bit longer before stepping back, but only far enough to see Tycho's face. There are silent tears there, trickling down bruised cheeks, and Wedge reaches out to gently, so gently, thumb them away.

“I'm so glad to see you, my love,” he breathes.

“Wedge,” Tycho whispers again, and there's so much in that one word – pain, fear, regret, relief – it makes Wedge _ache._ He wants to take Tycho away from here. Find somewhere to hold him while he rests. Take away all the hurt of the last six months. Scour the galaxy until he finds Iceheart and Lusankya and destroys them both for good.

But not now. Now he has to concentrate on what must be done. “Tycho,” he says, “we'll have time to catch up later, and I cannot wait, but they only let me in now because I promised to help you get ready for the scans.”

“No.” Tycho jolts back, a look of betrayal in his eyes Wedge tries not to take to heart.

“I know you're scared,” Wedge tells him, voice low and steady. “I can't imagine what the thought of being bound and sedated must be like for you after – after what you've been through.”

Tycho gives a tiny nod. “She-” he tries. “They-”

Wedge touches his hand. “I'm sorry. I wish I could convince them to wait or not do this at all. I promise no one is going to hurt you here. I'll be by your side the entire time. I won't let you out of my sight, and I'll be there with you when you wake up.”

Wedge looks over his shoulder to check the officers' reactions and finds their leader nodding reluctantly. Wedge catches his eye sharply, silently promising a fight should he try to go back on his promise once Tycho is unconscious.

When he turns back, Tycho is biting his lip, eyes still shadowed with doubt. “You won't leave me?”

“Never,” Wedge promises, knowing it's not him Tycho is doubting but this entire situation. “Not as long as you need me.”

“Okay.” Tycho lets out a heavy breath. “Okay. Let's get it over with.”

Wedge gives him an encouraging smile and takes his hand. Tycho allows himself to be lead over to the gurney, where the rail on one side has been lowered for access and wrist and ankle cuffs lay open and waiting.

Tycho hesitantly sits on the edge. Wedge helps him lift his legs and keeps a hand on his shoulder as he lays down. He's trembling again, hard, and Wedge squeezes, trying to convey some sort of silent comfort.

Wedge has seen Tycho fly against squadrons of enemies and run into raging lightfights without hesitating. It hurts to see him so undone by what from the outside might seem like such a little thing, but Wedge has no doubt Tycho is utilizing all of that same bravery now. He's so proud of him.

An woman in medic's garb steps forward as Tycho settles, reaching for the ankle cuffs. Wedge spears her with a look and asks, “If he's going to be sedated, are those really necessary?”

“I'm sorry, Commander, but these are our orders.”

Wedge takes a breath and tries to put himself in their place for a moment. Imagines a sleeper agent – not Tycho – activating, throwing off the affects of the drugs, and finding themselves unbound. Imagines, briefly, the consequences.

Blinking away the images, Wedge refocuses on Tycho. He's lying flat on the gurney with his eyes closed and his fists clenched at his sides and appears to be concentrating on keeping his breathing even.

“Are you ready, love?” Wedge murmurs, knowing it's less a question whose answer can matter and more of a warning.

Tycho nods stiffly.

“Do it,” Wedge says, sliding a hand into Tycho's hair at the same time. “Not too tight.”

Tycho's breath hitches as the ankle cuffs are fastened and twitches as they're cinched down but doesn't struggle.

“You're doing so well, Tycho,” Wedge praises him. “Hands next, okay?”

“Okay,” Tycho whimpers.

Wedge pets his hair, hating every moment of this, and nods for the medic to continue.

Again, Tycho doesn't protest as one wrist is cuffed at his hip and the other beside his head. His breathing is harsh and fast now, though, close to panic.

“Tycho, sweetheart, can you look at me?” When too-wide blue eyes open and focus, Wedge tries to smile for him. “Hey. Do you remember what I told you a little while ago?”

Tycho struggles to think for a moment, then manages, “You won't leave.”

“That's right. I'm right here by your side. I promise you're safe.”

Just as Tycho starts to relax a little, the medic says, “Commander, I need to sedate him now,” and panic sparks in his eyes again.

“Can you?” Tycho asks Wedge desperately.

Wedge shoots a glance at the medic. _Can_ he?

The medic frowns but seems to decide this is an acceptable way to speed things along. She prepares the syringe and hands it to Wedge, quickly and efficiently explaining where and how to inject the sedative.

“Okay,” Wedge says when he knows he's got it. He turns away from the medic and focuses solely on Tycho. “It's going to be all right. You're going to sleep now, but I'll with you the whole time, and I'll be waiting when you wake up.” He leans in, kisses his partner's forehead, hears his shaky exhale. “Trust me, Tycho.”

He steps back, meets Tycho's eyes, and at a tiny nod, does what he has to. Wedge watches the drugs take effect almost immediately, Tycho's limbs going slack and eyelids drooping. Fear and trust war in his blue gaze.

Just before his eyes close completely, trust wins.


End file.
